


Learning to Fly

by saltings



Category: Dragon Age II
Genre: Gen, Trans Character, Transgender
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-12-21
Updated: 2012-12-21
Packaged: 2017-11-21 21:17:52
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,284
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/602174
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/saltings/pseuds/saltings
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Trans Hawke grows up. Originally written for the Dragon Age kink meme.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Learning to Fly

   The first time Elaine had a serious fight with his mother, he was seven years old. She had gone to the market in town early that morning, telling him to be good and she’d have a surprise for him when she returned. He’d been bursting with excitement, convinced she was finally going to get him the puppy he’d been asking for for weeks. He’d been so excited he hadn’t even wanted to play with Carver, but instead waited by the road, thinking of names for his dog.

   The moment his mother returned, he was on her, jumping around trying to figure out where she’d hidden it. He was almost certain that it was in the basket that she quickly tucked away next to the fireplace. He waited anxiously as she moved about packing food away on the shelves and tidying things. Just when he thought he could wait no longer, she finally finished and turned to him. “Were you a good girl today, Elaine?” she asked.

   “Yes, Mama,” he answered, rolling his eyes.

   “Well, I bought something special just for you at the market,” she told him, pulling out the basket and setting it on the table. “But before I show you, just let me brush your hair, you look like a bird’s nested on your head.”

   “Mamaaa…” He stomped over impatiently and stood fidgeting as she dragged a brush through the tangles on his head. She was always so concerned about his hair, calling him back inside to fix it twice a day and fussing when he got mud in it. He wished she would just content herself with doing Bethany’s hair and let him go play with the puppy.

   After an agonizing amount of time, his hair was brushed, braided, and tied with ribbons. It wasn’t as if he wouldn’t lose them as soon as he went outside, but his mother liked seeing him looking nice so he’d try and keep them in for as long as possible.

   “So can I see it now?” he demanded as she put the brush down, moving much too slowly for the obvious importance of the situation.

   “Of course you can, darling.” His mother opened the basket and held it out to him. “Isn’t it lovely?”

   He frowned in puzzlement. It was empty save for some folded clothes. “Where is it?”

   “What do you mean? It’s this one right here.” She pulled out something from the top of the pile and unfolded it. It was a dress, fancy and decorated with embroidered flowers. It looked like something one of the richer girls in the village would wear. “I was told that it’s new from Denerim, and since you’ve been growing quite a bit lately, you need something better than those old breeches. It’s a bit nice for everyday wear, but I bought some other fabric so I can make you another dress that you can wear the rest of the time.”

   “But I… you didn’t get me a puppy?”

   “What? You already spend too much time running around getting in trouble with Carver; you don’t need another excuse to get in messes. You should be spending more time with Bethany anyway, she feels left out sometimes. Come try this on, and then why don’t you go spend some time with her.”

   “But you said you were getting me a surprise!”

   “This dress was the surprise, Elaine. I’m sorry you thought you were getting a puppy, but don’t you like the dress?” His mother looked hurt.

   “I don’t wanna wear a dress, Mama, I’m not a girl.” He clenched his fists. He’d told her this before, why couldn’t she just listen? She never listened to him, even when he was telling the truth, like the time he’d tried to tell her it was really Carver who’d left the chickenhouse door open and let all the birds escape. She never believed him, and now she’d gotten him this stupid dress instead of his dog.

   “I thought we’d been over this already, Elaine.” His mother’s voice turned stern. “You can’t just be a boy, you’re a girl. Things don’t work that way. Wearing trousers and not liking dolls doesn’t make you a boy, it’s just a phase you’re going through, and I do wish you’d grow out of it. Your father and I can’t humor you forever.”

   “No, Mama, you don’t understand. I _am_ a boy, like Carver and Papa, and you can’t make me wear that stupid dress!” He stuck out his tongue at her.

   “Elaine! Young lady, you have better manners than that. I think you need to go to your room and stay there until you’re ready to be pleasant.”

   She still wasn’t listening to him, but he’d had enough. “I hate you!” he screamed, turning and running out of the house. Tears burned at his eyes, but he refused to let them fall. If he cried, that would only prove her right, because boys never cried. He heard her call after him, but he kept running and didn’t look back.

   His father found him two hours later, at the top of a tree behind their house. Elaine hoped that he would just leave him alone, but instead he sat down at the base of the tree and looked prepared to stay there for a while. He decided that the best course of action was to simply ignore his father, although it was getting close enough to dinnertime that his stomach was telling him he’d have to come down soon anyway.

   “You really upset your mother, you know,” his father said from below.

   “Don’t care.” Elaine hoped she’d get kidnapped by bandits, then after a bit he and Carver could stage a daring rescue, and she’d be so grateful she’d never try to make him wear a dress again.

   “I’m disappointed in you, Elaine. She spent a lot of time trying to get you something she thought you’d like, and then you told her you hated her. I know you’re angry, but that’s no excuse. I want you to apologize to her.”

   “Papa, she wanted me to wear a dress!” This ignoring thing wasn’t working out very well. He kicked at the tree with his bare foot.

   “I know you don’t like dresses, but getting used to things you don’t like is a part of life. You’re still young, honey, but soon you’re going to have to start acting like a proper girl. Mama’s just trying to help you. She only wants what’s best for you.”

   “I’m not a girl, Papa,” he said patiently. His father was much nicer about letting him do what he wanted, maybe he could make him understand. “You don’t make Carver wear dresses, why do I have to?”

   “You can’t be a boy,” his father said, craning his neck up to try and see him through the branches. “Things just don’t work that way, boys and girls are different. But you can do just as many things as they can. Girls can even become knights if they want.”

   “I know,” Elaine grumbled. “But that’s not the same. That’s not what I want.”

   “Don’t worry, there’s plenty of other things you can do too. I’m sure you’ll feel differently in a few years, everybody changes their minds at your age. There’s still a lot of time for you to figure things out.” His father stood up and dusted off his robes. “Now, what do you say you come down from there and we go in for dinner? I believe Mama’s cooking a chicken.”

   His stomach getting the better of him, Elaine climbed down from the tree, his father catching him as he jumped the last few feet.

   “Now, when we go back in I want you to apologize, okay? Her feelings were very hurt. And Elaine, no more of this boy stuff, please. She tries not to show it, but it really upsets her.”

   “Why, Papa? I don’t want her to be sad, but I’m telling the truth.”

   “You’re her little girl, honey, and she wants to be happy and have a good life. You can’t do that if you keep insisting you’re a boy. Look at your brother and sister, they’re happy with who they are.”

   _But this is who I am,_ he wanted to say. But if his father was right, and he really was the reason his mother had been more worried than usual the past few months…

   “Alright, Papa, but please don’t make me wear that dress!” He grabbed his father’s sleeve and held it tight.

   “Mama really had her heart set on it for you, Elaine.” His father stopped walking and turned to face him. “How about I make you a deal? If you wear the dress for Mama, then I’ll get you a new pair of breeches and you can wear them when you’re outside.”

   Elaine looked doubtfully at his breeches. They were getting a bit small and had already been patched quite a few times. And if the other choice was his mother making him wear a dress all the time…

   “Okay, I guess I could try it. For her.” That didn’t mean he had to like it, though.

   “Good girl. That will make Mama very happy. She really does just want you to be okay, you know. She loves you very much.”

   “I know.” _She just thinks I’m a girl for some reason,_ he didn’t add. _I don’t want to make her sad, but she already has Bethany. Why does she need another daughter?_

“Okay then, honey, let’s say no more about this.” His father ruffled his hair. “Hopefully that’s the end of it.”

***

   Of course, it wasn’t the end at all, but Elaine really did try, if only for his mother. Even at that age he understood how hard their life was for her, with the constant fear of templars and having to pack up their home and move every few years. He didn’t want to add to her problems, so he made up his mind to do his best to be the girl his mother thought he was. Who knew, maybe his father was right and everything would change when he got older.

   He forced himself to wear the dress, with its itchy sleeves and impractical skirt, and sat quietly thinking up new things to do with Carver while his mother taught him how to cook and sew and told him about her childhood as a noble in the Free Marches. She even tried to teach him the same sort of etiquette that she’d had to learn at his age, but eventually gave it up as a lost cause. It wasn’t as if he’d ever need to know that sort of thing as a farmer’s child, anyway.

   As soon as the lessons were over, he’d escape, tearing off the dress in relief and running outside in his breeches. He was far happier running around fighting imaginary monsters with his brother and his friends in the village, but he tolerated everything else because he could tell how happy it made his mother. He’d seen her relief when he’d stopped trying to convince her he was a boy, and he’d almost forgotten what it was like to see her not worried or frustrated with him.

   By the time he was ten, he’d almost managed to convince himself that he didn’t mind being a girl. He spent less and less time roaming the woods and getting in trouble, and instead ended up playing with Bethany and her dolls, devising elaborate scenarios in which the princesses competed in sword fights for the prince and then  rode off to fight bandits until Bethany got tired of that and forced everyone back to the castle for tea. He had drifted apart from Carver, who had absolutely no interest in dolls and had given up trying to get Elaine to play with him after being repeatedly refused and finally shouted at. Elaine had decided if he had to be a girl, he was going to do it properly, and Carver encouraging him to do otherwise was not helping.

   It wasn’t so bad if he didn’t really think about it. Bethany had turned out to not be quite as boring as he’d always thought, even if she still wouldn’t use her magic to do anything cool and always wanted to play dolls. He didn’t really mind learning how to cook either, once he’d figured out how to do it without burning everything. And his father had told him how proud of him he was. It was that most of all that made him think that maybe he’d been wrong; after all, his father was the smartest man he knew, and if he thought that Elaine was doing the right thing… maybe it was all just one of those things that Elaine didn’t understand yet.

   He managed to keep it up for two more years, but something had to give.

   It was market day in Lothering, and his mother had decided to allow Carver and him to come with her and help sell the produce from their small farm. Usually it was their father who went with her, and Elaine and his siblings came along only as an occasional treat, but the templars had been making their presence known recently, so it wasn’t safe for their father or Bethany to be anywhere near the village.

   Elaine was especially pleased because it was one of the rare days when he got to wear his breeches. He and Carver were allowed to ride on the family’s big old carthorse while their mother rode behind them in the cart with all the produce, and it just wasn’t practical to sit on a horse in a skirt. It wasn’t as exciting as it could have been, because they couldn’t go faster than a slow walk in case they jostled the eggs, but sometimes on the way back their mother would let them trot him.

   When they arrived in the village the market was already quite busy. Their mother went off to look for a space to set up while he and Carver unhitched the horse from the cart and tethered him under a tree. She had told them that the horse was their responsibility for the day, and if they took care of him properly she’d give them a few coppers to buy themselves something from one of the stalls. However, Carver hadn’t been the most reliable person lately, and when Elaine went to ask him to help him fetch a bucket of water for the horse, he discovered that he’d run off somewhere. Probably to look at the wares of the weaponsmith they’d seen on their way in. Elaine considered following and dragging him back, but decided it would be easier to get the water himself and then maybe he could get a look at the swords as well before mother called them back to help her mind her stall.

   He ran down to the river, keeping a watchful eye out the whole way. He wasn’t sure he believed it, but one of his friend’s older brothers had told him that there were giant spiders that lived in caves by the river, waiting for careless boys and girls to drag back to their lair. Elaine had never seen a giant spider before, but he wasn’t ruling out the possibility of their existence, so he was always careful not to get out of sight of the village whenever he went near the river. He was sure he could fight them off if they ever tried anything, but it was always better to be cautious, just in case.

   The bucket was much heavier than he’d expected once it was filled with water, and he wished that he had gone and asked Carver to help him after all, but as it was he’d just have to manage it alone. He imagined that he could feel it building character, like his dad always said hard work did. He wasn’t quite sure what character was, but thought it may have been something like muscles. Even so, he had to stop only halfway back or else drop the bucket and spill everything.

   After a short rest he was about to pick it up again and continue on when he heard footsteps behind him. He turned and saw it was one of the older farmers he’d seen around the village occasionally. He smiled at Elaine.

   “Need some help with that, son?”

   Elaine looked around in surprise, but no, Carver hadn’t suddenly returned. They were the only two there, and the man was definitely talking to _him._

   “Um, yes, thank you, sir.” Had he perhaps misheard?

   “No problem. Where are you taking it?” The man picked up the bucket easily.

   “It’s for our horse, over there.” Elaine pointed to where the horse was grazing.

   They walked back to the tree and the man set the bucket down. “Thanks again,” Elaine said.

   “Don’t worry about it,” the man replied. “I might have had trouble with that when I was your size. You’re a good boy to help your parents out like this.”

   Elaine sat down under the tree and watched the man leave, his mind whirling. The man had known he was a boy. There wasn’t something wrong with him. It was his parents who were wrong, he really was a boy, they just couldn’t tell. He’d spent all that time spent hoping it would go away if he just ignored it, he’d wake up one morning and be a girl and they could all laugh at how silly he’d been, and everyone would be happy. But if other people could tell, if he wasn’t the only one who knew he was a boy…

   That evening, he took a knife from the kitchen and cut his hair as short as he could. His mother was furious, and his father sent him to his room without his dinner for playing with knives, but when he looked in the mirror he felt for the first time that he recognized the boy looking back. Despite his mother’s shouting, in that moment, he knew that everything was going to be okay.

***

   Despite his sudden epiphany, Elaine found he didn’t have the heart to try and explain things to his parents. If his mother had been so angry over just the hair cutting, he dreaded what she would think of his sudden ‘regression’, if she didn’t suspect already. He thought maybe he could tell her about the farmer he’d met, how he’d known too, but he had a sudden fear that she might know the farmer and track him down to explain that, no, that was actually her little girl, thank you very much, and she didn’t need encouragement in her fantasies. He didn’t even want to think about that, so he kept silent.

   That didn’t mean he just returned to life as normal, though. He knew that he was right, now, and there was no way he was going to continue playing dress up. He could tolerate being his mother’s daughter, at least for a little bit longer until he was older, but if he was going to pretend to be a girl he was going to do it his way. He had stories of Ser Aveline to back him up, and the fact that Lothering was a more traditional sort of village compared to other places wasn’t going to stop him.

   His mother was extremely disapproving, as he’d known she would be, but his father relented and took his side, effectively becoming a go-between for Elaine and his mother, trying to work out a deal. She turned down outright his plan of learning to use a sword from one of the men in the village, and when he brought up Ser Aveline she reminded him that she’d been violently executed, which he hadn’t thought of. She did agree to let him work in the fields with his father on the condition that she could keep teaching him cooking. Being a farmer hadn’t been what he’d planned, but it was better than sewing and the like. He didn’t mind the cooking too much, it had actually been sort of fun, but he complained just enough that she would think she’d made a hard bargain. He knew she didn’t much like it, though, because afterwards he heard her talking with his father about getting him back to the house again as soon as Carver was big enough to help in the fields. That wouldn’t be for at least a year, if Carver’s current size was any indication, so he didn’t worry too much.

   He decided that all he had to do was keep pretending for a little bit longer. He’d heard all sorts of stories of boys who ran away with travelling actors or mercenaries and came back with their fortunes made. It sounded like a good plan to him, and he could put up with being ‘young lady’ until then. And afterward, when he’d become a famous knight with an estate of his own and had his fill of adventure, then he could return home again. At first his family wouldn’t recognize him, but when they did they would finally realize their mistake. They’d all move into his estate together and he’d be able to protect them all from the templars with his sword. Maybe he and Carver would even become friends again. He could see it all so clearly. He just had to be patient for a few more years.

***

   When Elaine was nineteen years old, he and Carver enlisted in King Cailan’s army. Lothering had been hearing rumors about darkspawn in the wilds for months, and then one day a recruiter showed up in the village, calling for anyone who knew how to fight to come and serve their country. If the king himself was taking interest in the situation, Elaine knew that this wasn’t just something that would blow over. He had to take action to keep his family safe.

   He and Carver had both learned the basics of fighting at the bann’s castle only the year before. A gang of bandits had been raiding outlying farms and the bann had decided to provide training for the people who lived outside the village in addition to increasing his men’s patrols. The training had been nothing like their play fighting as children, but Elaine had loved it and taken to it immediately, much to the disappointment of his mother. He was actually quite put out that none of the bandits had ever tried to attack their farm.

   Their mother had been extremely angry when they told her what they’d done. Elaine hadn’t seen her that angry in years, alternating between shouting and crying, but he and Carver didn’t back down and with Bethany’s help they managed to convince her that they were old enough to make their own decisions and more than capable of protecting themselves. She still wasn’t happy about it, and insisted on telling Elaine all about the dangers young women in particular would face in the army. They almost had to pry her off after she hugged them goodbye, crying again and calling them her little boy and little girl. Even though it had been years since he’d worn a dress or had hair long enough for her to braid Elaine still felt a little like he was letting her down.

   As they left Lothering behind Elaine couldn’t help feeling like he was finally setting off on an adventure of the sort he’d always dreamed of as a child. Even without the barrage of warnings from his mother and Bethany he knew exactly how dangerous it was, but he was finally setting off to do something of his own, something worthwhile. He was in charge of his life out in the world beyond the village, and he could make a difference for it. If the pack he was carrying wasn’t so heavy he might have indulged himself and skipped off down the road. As it was, he contented himself with whistling until Carver told him to shut up, and then he whistled louder.

   That night they set up camp with a group of other new recruits from Lothering and its surrounding farms. The others were planning to catch up with the bann’s men where they were camped further to the south and then journey on to Ostagar together. He and Carver decided to stay with them and hope for safety in numbers, there were strange tales being passed around about the wilds surrounding Ostagar, and no one really wanted to travel them alone.

   They didn’t actually know any of the people they’d camped with very well, other than having seen them in passing a few times. Most of the others their age had already set out in the week before, and these were just the stragglers bringing up the rear. Out of habit he and Carver set up their small tent slightly apart from the others, but were careful to stay in view of the sentry.

   Elaine had been thinking all day while they walked, gradually forming an idea in his head. When they’d finished their dinner and cleaned up he pulled Carver aside a short distance from where everyone else was gathered around the fire.

   “Carver, I need to ask you to do something for me,” he said, trying to force down his nervousness. He could do this.

   “What do you want, sister? If you’re going to ask me to take a turn with the cooking tomorrow, you can forget it. I’m sure you remember what happened last time I tried cooking. That rabbit…” He laughed.

   “I wouldn’t dream of asking you to cook ever again, Carver, that rabbit still haunts me,” he said, grimacing at the memory. “No, what I want you to do is… I want you to call me Eamon.”

   There. He’d said it, he couldn’t take it back now.

   There was silence for a moment. He didn’t want to meet his brother’s eyes, afraid of what he’d see there.

   “What? Why d’you want me to do that?”

   He took a deep breath. “Because while we’re here, away from home, I want you to tell people we’re brothers, okay? I’m your brother.”

   Carver looked confused. “You do know that there’ve been women allowed in the army since forever, don’t you? We’re not the Qunari, you don’t have to disguise yourself or anything.”

   “Yes, thank you, I’m aware of that, Carver. I’m not trying to disguise myself, I just… don’t want to be a woman. I’m _not_ a woman. Nobody knows me here, this is my chance to just be myself.” He chanced another look at his brother, willing him to understand. They hadn’t been close in a while, but they’d been best friends before and Carver had always understood him better than anyone else.

   “Hang on, is this like back when we were kids?” Carver’s frown smoothed out. “When you used to keep telling everyone you were a boy?”

   Eamon nodded.

   “I used to think it was kind of fun, almost like having a brother for real. Mother didn’t like it much, though, did she? Well, I guess I can tell people you’re my brother again… Eamon, if that’s what you want.” Carver shook his head. “I have no idea what we’re going to say to mother, though.” He made a vague gesture like he was going to clap Eamon on the shoulder but thought better of it, then turned and went back to the fire with the others.

   It may not have been quite perfect, but Eamon decided it was more than close enough.

   The next three months that he spent in the army camp at Ostagar were some of the happiest of his life. Carver kept his word and referred to him as “my brother Eamon”, and even if he didn’t quite understand he never slipped up or forgot. The other soldiers always assumed Eamon was the younger brother, barely old enough to be there, and teased Carver for the fact that his younger brother was the one so obviously in charge of the pair. Eamon never bothered to correct them on his age, and easily stepped into the role of younger brother, which was actually not that different from older brother except that others asked Carver’s opinion more often. That and that he acquired the affectionate nickname of Little Hawke. At any other time, it might have been extremely irritating, but he was so glad that they were calling him ‘he’ and ‘Eamon’ that nothing could bring him down.

   Carver was also flourishing, having a chance for the first time in his life to be the older sibling, not judged in terms of who came before him. Eamon had never quite realized how much Carver had been living in his shadow at home, he’d never thought of their parents as being proud enough to hold him up as an example of anything, but according to Carver he hadn’t been able to do anything without hearing about ‘how good Elaine was at everything and how she always tried to make people happy’. If it wasn’t that it was excessive praise of Bethany and her magical progress. He seemed to have omitted from his memory all the times their mother had lamented over Eamon’s clothes, hair, disobedience and general unladylikeness, but he really didn’t feel like starting an argument by pointing it out. He and Carver were finally on friendly terms again, and he was really enjoying it.

   They had a lot of time to get reacquainted, because it turned out an army was an incredibly slow place when it wasn’t fighting anyone. There was training, and all the menial jobs that kept the camp running smoothly, but if you didn’t have a specific job it was mostly sitting around. And a lot of gossiping. Eamon found out quickly that almost everyone in the camp was eager to talk, sharing rumours and opinions with anyone who would listen. The biggest source of discussion was the presence of the Grey Wardens. They had their tents all set up together on the north side of the camp, and there were always people making up some kind of pretense to wander through, just to get a look at the legendary warriors. Even the king seemed to have a mild case of hero worship, and often joined the wardens to drink in the evenings. The ones that Eamon saw didn’t look as fearsome as he’d imagined, though; most of them were average and didn’t stand out at all except for the occasional griffon painted on a shield or breastplate. Still, he couldn’t deny that they looked capable, and at least some of the stories had to be more than just wild exaggeration.

   While the overall mood in the camp was one of confidence, everyone knew that the smaller battles they’d already fought were just a prelude to something bigger, and it was good to know that there were people who’d specifically trained against the darkspawn on their side. Several of the men and women Eamon knew even talked about trying to join the wardens themselves. Even Carver had thought about it, but the wardens had made it clear that they weren’t taking on any more recruits.

   The scouts started bringing in reports about large gatherings of darkspawn in the wilds. They seemed to be preparing for a more concentrated attack than their previous skirmishes. The scouts also reported seeing darkspawn of a size far beyond what they’d encountered so far, which the wardens tentatively identified as ogres. The king and the teryn closed themselves off in the king’s tent, checking and rechecking their strategies and battle plans, while everyone else did what they could to prepare themselves and then waited around with a kind of nervous excitement. Whatever it was that was going to happen, it was going to be soon.

   None of it turned out how it should have. Less than two weeks later the entire army had been wiped out and he and Carver were deserters, on the run and barely managing to keep ahead of the darkspawn. They heard rumours in the villages they passed through that the king himself had been killed in the battle, and the entire country had been plunged into chaos. Others said it was the Grey Wardens who’d killed him, in some kind of dramatic bid for power. Eamon didn’t really care either way, his only thought was to make it to his home ahead of the horde and get his family to safety.

   They were delayed by nearly a week when they left the road to avoid another group of surviving soldiers, afraid they’d be pulled back into service and left with no way to return to Lothering. After skirting widely around the soldiers camp, they discovered they’d become turned around and couldn’t get back to the road. They made slow going over the rough ground, heading vaguely north and hoping to run into a familiar landmark. Their tempers were severely frayed by the time they came upon the old imperial highway and discovered that they’d somehow ended up at least two days march west of Lothering.

   Desperation and fear lent them strength, and they travelled with only short rests and barely any sleep. On the afternoon of the second day they finally reached the village. There were no corpses, no burned buildings; it seemed entirely unchanged by the disaster that had taken place in the south.

   Appearances were deceiving, though, and they knew the village was in great danger from the horde that was fast approaching. They had to get to their farm and get mother and Bethany to safety, everything else could be figured out afterward. Maybe they could go to Redcliffe, there was always temporary harvesting work for travelers on its many farms. From there they could move farther north; as long as they could keep ahead of the darkspawn long enough for the army to regroup then they’d probably make it out okay.

   Even the farm was completely unchanged, the same as the day that they had left it. They heard Bethany before they saw her, apparently she had seen them coming from the house and was shouting excitedly for mother. She came running down the road toward them, and Eamon was delighted to find that his months in the army had definitely made him stronger as he was now able to lift her fully off her feet. He twirled her around, laughing, amazed that they’d made it in time and his little sister was alright. They stumbled into Carver and the three of them tumbled over into the ditch, squashing Carver beneath them. The next instant their mother was there too, and they had the family reunion right there in the ditch, a mess of hugging and attempted explanations and Mother tearing up again.

   It was over sooner than Eamon would have liked, and then he had the task of explaining to them what had happened at Ostagar and the danger they were now in. How they had to pack up and leave the longest steady home they’d ever had, with no idea if they’d ever return. They took it better than he’d expected, but then his mother was adamant about not leaving without packing things. Eamon wasn’t sure how long they had, especially with how fast the darkspawn seemed to move, but he knew there was no point arguing with her. Carver agreed that they should travel light, so he took on the task of trying to at least moderate their mother’s packing so she didn’t try to bring most of the house with them.

   There was one tense moment where Carver called him Eamon, and he could almost see the gears working in Mother’s brain. They had agreed not to discuss it with her until they were safely away from Lothering, but… He supposed he should take it as a good sign that Carver seemed to automatically think of him as Eamon now, but it was hard to be grateful when he could see his mother working up to a conclusion she didn’t like. The anger and lecture would come any minute now…

   Bethany was surprised too, and didn’t really understand what was going on, but Eamon was eternally grateful for how she managed to divert Mother. There was the unsaid implication that this discussion was not over, but at least they could focus on getting away for the moment. No matter where they planned to go, it was going to be a long, dangerous journey, especially on foot, and he really wanted to leave as soon as possible.

***

   Kirkwall was definitely not what Eamon had expected. When the darkspawn had cut them off from Redcliffe and any other city in the north it was the only destination that made sense, but he missed the outdoors and being able to walk outside and smell fresh air instead of unwashed bodies and rotten food. They were better off than most of the other Fereldan refugees, but Gamlen’s house was still just about as far as you could get from his mother’s description of a luxurious manor and a life of nobility. Eamon wasn’t sure he’d have made a good noble anyway, and he’d thought about telling her that, but it hardly mattered now. She hadn’t talked to him about much of anything since Carver had died.  
  
   He had a sneaking suspicion that it went beyond normal grieving and that she blamed him in some way for Carver’s death. He would have talked to her about it, but he was afraid that any kind of interaction between them would shatter the tenuous inaction between them and he didn’t think he was ready for that. He also wasn’t really sure he wanted to hear what she might say. If she really did blame him… maybe she even felt he was trying to take Carver’s place as her son. He didn’t know what he’d do if she said that. He’d only just begun to reconnect with his brother when he was taken away from them, he didn’t want to lose his mother as well in the same short time.  
  
   At least Bethany was still speaking to him, and she didn’t seem to have any kind of anger towards him. She didn’t really understand why he wanted Meeron and the others they worked with to call him Eamon, but she went along with it and corrected herself when she messed up. She did have a habit of reverting to using ‘Elaine’ when they were at home, which made him think that maybe she thought it was all just a game or a dramatic expression of his attraction to girls, no matter how many times he told her he didn’t like girls that way. That whole thing with Carver’s girlfriend back in Lothering had been a complete misunderstanding. She did make the effort, but at least with Carver he hadn’t felt quite so much like he was only being humored.  
  
   His uncle’s reaction, though, that had been a complete surprise, not only to Eamon but also to his mother. When they’d first met in the Gallows Gamlen had taken him for Aveline’s brother, probably due to his hair, and had been incredibly amused by Mother’s offended explanation that no, that wasn’t some mercenary boy they’d taken up with, that was Gamlen’s niece and he’d do well to remember it. They hadn’t taken to each other at all, but Eamon ended up spending most of his time on jobs with the Red Iron or exploring the city, so they didn’t have to see each other more than once every couple of days. Eamon had accepted that his uncle would always be hanging around and even occasionally useful, but not someone he’d miss too much if he suddenly vanished.  
  
   Then one day, through a combination of overhearing Bethany calling Eamon by his chosen name and Meeron commenting on his ‘nephew’s’ skills, Gamlen stumbled over the truth. It wasn’t as though Eamon had been hiding anything. In fact, he thought Gamlen already knew, but the subject almost never came up at home with his mother around. But now that he did know, he completely defied Eamon’s expectations by taking the whole thing in stride and carrying on with his life. Eamon had thought that all the comments about him being a princess when he complained about his uncle not cleaning or the speculation about his sexual preferences for women had been his uncle mocking him for ‘pretending’ to be a man, but apparently not. In fact, he began to clue into the fact that something had changed when his uncle’s insults suddenly changed and he began to speculate that Eamon was probably some kind of sissy who liked men. This confused him for a while, but it was eventually cleared up when a chance encounter brought him to ask Gamlen if he’d bought eggs yet at a time when he was horribly grouchy and hungover.

   “Leave me alone, boy!” his uncle snapped, lifting his head only briefly from the kitchen table. “If you want the damn eggs so much, you can go out and buy them yourself.”  
  
   “Oh, don’t encourage her, Gamlen,” his mother said. “It’s bad enough already with those mercenary friends of hers. Her year’s up and she still works with them! As if she needs more people calling her… well, it’s not as if she doesn’t have a perfectly good name already.”  
  
   “Mother…” Eamon sighed. Then he realized what felt off about the conversation. Gamlen had called him ‘boy’. It had always been ‘girl’, or even worse, 'princess', before.  
  
   “Why do you care so much if he wants to be a boy, Leandra?” Gamlen lifted his head again to glare blearily at Eamon’s mother. “I doubt he’d be any less annoying if he was wearing a dress.” He dropped his head again with a thud, and added something that was muffled by the table but sounded to Eamon like “This makes more sense anyway.”  
  
   “But that’s not how-” his mother started, but Gamlen cut her off.  
  
   “Maker’s breath, can’t a man get any peace and quiet in his own home? That’s all I want. Go on, shoo. Go get those eggs, boy, and get me another cask of ale too while you’re at it.” He stood up from the table and retreated to his room glaring at both of them as he passed.  
  
   His uncle may have been the biggest ass in Kirkwall, but he certainly did have his moments. Eamon was grinning as he left to get the eggs. If he was quick there’d even be time to get up to Hightown and the Merchant’s Guild before dark.  
  
   As he walked he remembered the games that he and Carver had played as children, knights fighting monsters and coming home with treasure and princesses. He might never become a knight, or bring home a princess, but there was a Deep Roads expedition he and Bethany had heard of that held the promise of more treasure than he knew what to do with. His family would be set up for life, he might even be able to buy back the old family estate for his mother. And he’d be able to make a name for himself on his own, apart from Meeron and the rest of the Red Iron. He could be successful and well-known in Kirkwall by this time next year.  
  
   He began whistling as he carried on down the street. It definitely wasn’t going to be easy, but it seemed to him that things could only go up from here.


End file.
